Promises and Regrets
by Undertaker's Madness
Summary: Takes place after "Flowers for the Dead". Eric Slingby is unwilling to accept his partner's fate after Alan offers himself up as a servant to the demonic noble that agreed to assist Dispatch in the battle for the Great Library. Determined to free his partner, Eric enlists the aid of Grell and the Undertaker in a bold gambit to save Alan. Yaoi, multiple pairings. M for adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

He missed his realm. He missed his office, and his work, and his friends. Most of all, he missed his partner. Each night, Alan dreamed of him. It was the only time he knew peace and comfort, in this place. He dreamed of his wavy golden hair, his handsome Gaelic features, his deep laugh and the way his accent slipped out when they were alone or when he got especially agitated or drunk. He thought of his strong, tall body and the Celtic tattoos he'd gotten over the years. On his right shoulder was an inking of a Celtic cross, while his left bicep sported knotwork encircling it. Twin dragons adorned his back on either side of his spine, facing one another. Those he'd added a couple of years after they'd become lovers, representing the two of them.

Alan himself had no such body art, but he'd always admired the way it looked on Eric's built frame. The more he thought of him, the more he missed him. He couldn't be sure how long he'd been a prisoner in Hell now; the days were hard to count. He knew it had been over a year…perhaps two, now.

After another day of running errands, tending the Duke and avoiding the advances of several demons, Alan cleaned up, ate and retired to his small sleeping chambers in the Court of Bones. In the interest of keeping his servant alive, the Duke was at least courteous enough to see to it he got the food, drink and rest his body required. He even seemed to have grown a bit fond of his reaper servant, though Alan had seen him rip apart lesser demons that dared to offend him and he wasn't about to presume he wouldn't do the same to him if he ever displeased him enough.

He collapsed on his narrow bed and he pulled the covers up to his chin, before putting out the wall sconce hanging beside it. Lighting in this place didn't seem to require fuel of any sort, though he suspected _something_ had to be feeding it…and he wasn't sure he wanted to know what that something was. Watching damned human souls get devoured or put into slavish servitude to earn the chance to become demons and thus save their own existence was a terrible thing, and it happened every day here. What sort of demon they would become should they pass all grueling tests without getting eaten first depended on the individual soul.

"Eric," whispered the captive reaper, shutting his eyes. If he fell asleep thinking of his lover, sometimes the nightmares wouldn't come and he would instead have beautiful dreams of his life with the Scotsman, and his home.

* * *

His dreams were of the sensual kind that night—so vivid Alan could actually feel the caress of his lover's fingertips on his body. He moaned in his sleep, ignoring his mind's coldly logical reminders that he was still in Hell and Eric couldn't be further out of his reach right now. He whispered the Scotsman's name, running his fingers through the thick, wavy mane of his blond hair as velvety lips kissed his cheeks, jaw and throat. A strong body covered his and Alan embraced it, needing it like a starving man needed sustenance.

"I miss you," he whispered into the dark, stroking the other man's back. "I want to come home to you, Eric."

The kisses stopped, and a voice that did not belong to the man Alan so desperately wanted to touch again spoke. "Wake up, little reaper. I suspect you've been entangled in your own sad dreams."

Alan frowned and blinked open his eyes. Hovering over him was not a handsome, tawny Scotsman—but a pale and beautiful male demon with long, straight raven hair falling forward to tickle his skin. His ram-like horns curved out from either side of the top of his head, the tips of which ended just above his slightly pointed ears. The demon smiled at him, revealing sharp canines. His magenta eyes were glowing with lust and his slit pupils were slightly dilated. The soft blackness of his wings were like a feathered canopy over the two of them.

With a gasp, Alan pushed at Mordecai's partly bared chest. As per usual, the raven demon wore his typical black outfit that fit him like a second skin and opened into an immodest V shape down the front, exposing him from chest to navel.

"W-what are you doing in my chambers?" huffed the reaper, unable to dislodge the tall, toned body lying atop his.

Mordecai's thin, straight brows hedged slightly. "Why, you invited me."

"I…I did no such thing," insisted Alan, face flushing. Dear gods, he'd almost…they could have…

"But you did," persisted the raven. "I passed by your chambers on my way to…ahem…visit a friend, and I heard you making the most interesting noises. When I called out to you through the little window, you told me not to make you wait…and so I let myself in and came to you."

He grinned mischievously. "And then you reached out for me and asked me to make love to you."

Alan's mouth was agape. "I wouldn't! I didn't! It wasn't you I was calling for, if I'd called out at all. Please, get off of me."

Mordecai sighed with obvious disappointment, but he complied. He sat on the edge of the bed and he boldly reached out to pluck Alan's glasses off the little table beside it, sniffing them curiously before putting them on. He squinted as he looked through them. "Reaper eyesight really is pitiful."

Alan snatched the glasses off the raven's face and put them on. "It's a trade-off for our other abilities. Would you please keep your hands off my meager belongings, Mordecai?" Odd as it was, Mordecai was probably the closest thing he had to a friend in this place; but he'd been trying to court him since his first day of servitude and while he hadn't tried to force himself on him, Alan was getting accustomed to his seduction attempts. Sometimes he was almost like a playful child. Other times, he was this sensual creature that might have had a chance with him, if Alan weren't so in love with a certain Scotsman.

"I was only curious," excused the demon. He watched Alan as the reaper struggled into a sitting position and ignited the wall sconce. "I can see your mate in your mind's eye. I cannot blame you for pining for him. He's quite the specimen, isn't he? Very male…very attractive."

Alan wasn't sure how one person could be more "male" than another, but Eric _was_ quite masculine…and charming. "I would appreciate it if you would keep your 'minds-eye' to yourself—as well as your hands. Those memories are private."

"Then you should try to conceal them better," stated Mordecai seriously. He shrugged gracefully, his midnight wings stretching a little before folding tightly back in. "You dream of him often, yes?"

Alan lowered his gaze and nodded, bending one pajama-clad leg and hugging it with his arms. "All the time. I'll never forget him."

"Hmm, a shame," sighed the demon. "I'm afraid I don't understand this concept you speak of so often…this 'love'. We demons can be loyal, and we can grow fond of our associates, but we aren't designed to love. Such a thing seems limited to your kind and the mortals, I'm afraid."

"Yes, yes," sighed Alan. "I get reminded at every term how 'mortal-like' I am…and teased for it."

Mordecai tilted his head slowly, his unblinking gaze making Alan want to squirm. "I don't like it when you are sad, little reaper. You're much more fun when you are inquisitive, or telling me stories of your days as a death god agent. Though I admit, I feel some jealousy when you speak of your lion."

"My…lion?" At once, he realized whom the demon was speaking of, and a nostalgic little smile briefly twitched on his lips. "Oh. Eric."

Mordecai closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. "The way you speak his name; like a caress. I think I would like it if you ever spoke _my_ name that way."

"I'm sorry," whispered Alan politely, "but that will never happen."

"Why not?" pursued the raven. "What does your golden reaper have that I don't? Well, other than a tan and facial hair."

Alan almost smiled at that too, but his eyes grew sad as they gazed into the inquisitive demon's. "He has my heart, and that isn't going to change."

"And there you go again," grumbled Mordecai. "Speaking of things I cannot fathom. If he had your heart, you would be dead, yes?"

Alan snorted a little with amusement. "I don't mean literally. It's a metaphor for love…and that goes beyond the loyalty you spoke of just a moment ago."

"And you never mate with anyone else?" Mordecai looked perplexed. "Only each other? Even mated pairs amongst my kind don't keep only to each other."

Alan sighed. "Think of it like a contract. We are monogamous, Eric and I. You wouldn't have two different masters at once, would you? I mean, if you were permitted to go to the mortal realm to make a contract with a mortal."

Like himself, Mordecai was stuck in Hell for a century—punishment for something he hadn't yet revealed to Alan, and the reaper had yet to ask. The demon seemed to grasp the concept a little better with that explanation. "Hmm, interesting. But you will be here for a century, will you not? How can you be so certain your mate will hold the same standard of loyalty until you can return?"

Alan started to vehemently state that Eric would remain faithful to him, but he hesitated a moment. Before they got together, the Scotsman had quite the extensive dating record, and though it hurt him to think of Eric bedding someone else, he could never hate him for relieving his needs during his absence. "I can't," he confessed softly, "but as for myself, I will remain loyal to him, all the same."

"I see." Mordecai tapped his claws on his leather-encased knee. "What a good mate you are, Alan. Holding your vow to him so diligently. It makes you even more appealing to me."

When the reaper gave him a warning look, the raven chuckled and spread his hands. "Fear not. I have plenty of other selections with which to amuse myself…though I shall continue to persuade you. It's merely in my nature."

"Persuade all you like," muttered Alan. "My answer won't change."

"But I'll still enjoy the challenge, all the same." Mordecai smiled. "What if you could see your golden lion again?"

Alan frowned at him. "I can't leave until my indenture is over with. Unless he can arrange a conjugal visit to this plane, I can't imagine that happening again before then."

"Oh?" Mordecai smiled again, and his form began to blur and shift before Alan's eyes. His wings shrank and vanished, his horns did the same, and his features and build changed. Within moments, Alan found himself looking at a perfect image of his beloved partner—right down to the blue-tinted glasses he wore.

"E-Eric?" whispered Alan, stunned.

The Scotsman smiled handsomely at him.

Alan scooted closer, his senses confused with longing and heartache. He hadn't seen that face in the flesh since he'd bartered himself to the Duke, and he reached out hesitantly to touch the bigger reaper's strong jaw, brushing his thumb over the tuft facial hair on his chin. Real. It felt so real…looked so real. For a moment he forgot himself, convinced he'd fallen back into a dream. When Eric cupped the back of his head with a gloved hand to draw him into a kiss, Alan didn't resist.

It wasn't until the Scotsman's tongue slipped into his mouth to explore that the captive reaper came to his senses. Wrong. Eric didn't kiss this way. While the motions of his lips and tongue were surely sensual, it lacked the assertiveness and passion he was used to from his partner. When Eric kissed him, it was like he was making love to his mouth, and he usually purred or hummed in his throat with delight. This kiss was cajoling…coaxing. Eric didn't coax…he _took_. He ravished Alan's mouth when he kissed him, leaving his breathless and putty-like in his arms until his body completely surrendered and he was left practically begging to be claimed.

Alan shoved away with a gasp, mortified that he'd almost fallen for it. "Don't…do that. You aren't him. Never look like him again!"

The illusion vanished quickly, and Mordecai once again sat before him. The demon looked confused. "This was not what you wanted? You said you would only mate with your lion. I thought—"

"No!" Alan's vision blurred with tears and he sniffed. "That isn't how it works! That wasn't an invitation for you to try and trick me!"

"I was only trying to give you what I thought you need," the raven pointed out, "not trick you."

"I don't need your glamour…or illusion…or whatever you just did! I need _him_, understand? It isn't as simple as looking like him. You _aren't_ him. Y-you aren't…him."

"Your eyes are leaking again," observed Mordecai, "and your voice is trembling."

Alan wiped at said eyes with a shaking hand, inadvertently smearing his tears against the interior of his lenses. "I've told you before; it's called 'crying'. Just like when mortals do it. You've upset me."

"That was not my intent." To his credit, Mordecai sounded unhappy with the result of his actions…almost regretful.

Alan tried to calm down, reminding himself that this creature couldn't understand human and reaper emotions. "I…I know you meant well for me," he said with a swallow. There wasn't really such a thing as "good intentions" when it came to demons, but this was probably the closest thing to it that he'd witnessed during his time on this plane. "You have to try to understand though; it isn't what I want. Even if you can't comprehend what it is that I need, at least accept that this wasn't it. Please, leave me alone. I want to be alone."

Mordecai got up slowly and went to the chamber door. He glanced back over his shoulder at the miserable reaper, his sculpted features hesitant. "I dislike it when your eyes leak," he stated. "That is, when you 'cry'. I shall try not to be the cause of it again, Alan."

With that said, the demon left and closed the door behind him. Alan curled up in his bed and he hugged his flimsy pillow, shutting his eyes and trying to pretend it was Eric.

* * *

Undertaker nudged the still body lying in the alley between his shop and the book shop next door. He frowned. "You dead, bloke?"

He'd sensed a death occur nearby, but there was no aura clinging to this man. The mortician knelt down and felt for a pulse. Finding none, he deduced that he was so much cooling meat. "Now, that's a bit odd."

He glanced around to be sure nobody was nearby, and he summoned his death scythe. "Let's see what's inside, eh?"

He poked a small hole in the body's shoulder. Nothing came out, except for a sluggish flow of blood. There were no records to be had.

"Hmm." Undertaker sat back on his haunches and considered it, reaching out with his senses. There were traces of a demon aura nearby...but they were faint. Whatever form of hellspawn got to this fellow, they'd masked their aura well. Couldn't be Sebastian; he was still in the service of Ciel Phantomhive and choosing to starve himself, rather than snack on what he considered "lesser souls" while waiting for the day he could dine on his master.

"Or could he have finally broken and settled for an appetizer?" wondered the ancient aloud. It didn't seem likely. Michaelis was exceptionally stoic and patient—which meant there was a good possibility that Undertaker had an unknown demon lurking around his block of the city. It was no wonder an agent of Dispatch hadn't shown up yet—the death list would have had a line scratched through this poor bastard's name with a note that his soul was no longer available for reaping.

"Well, I s'pose there's nothing for it, except to give the yard a call and have 'em come pick you up," he said conversationally to the empty shell. "Wouldn't do t' leave you rotting in my alley, attracting bacteria and such. Not to worry, chap. You'll probably wind up on my table anyway, once they realize there's no obvious cause of death."

He got up with a grunt and he cast another look around, before banishing his scythe. Whoever the demon was that had fed on this mortal didn't seem to be around anymore. Still, he thought he'd better keep a sharp eye on his territory, just in case it came back. Some demons ate and moved on, while others lingered in an area for a bit after finding juicy pickings.

* * *

"Darling, I've been waiting for you for over an hour," complained Grell when the Undertaker finally came home to his shop. He put his hands on his hips and he batted his long eyelashes at the mortician. "Did you forget that I was taking a half day off to spend with you?"

Undertaker grimaced, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Oh my...I did, too! So sorry, love. There was a problem with a body in the alley that I had to address and I lost track of the time."

Grell sighed and approached him to slip his arms around his neck. "I suppose I can forgive you..._this_ time. I'm just happy to get out of that office a bit early. I was assigned to work with Eric as my partner today and it was just awful!"

"Oh really?" The Undertaker rubbed Grell's slender back soothingly. "I'd heard Officer Slingby was one of the better agents to have at your side on the field."

"He was. He is still, but the man is so morose these days." Grell shook his head and lowered his gaze. "He's also become rather reckless—and for _me_ to say such a thing, you know it must be serious."

"Hmm. Well, his cute li'l partner is trapped in Hell. Can't really blame the man for being a bit of a grump."

"Yes, but Alan's imprisoned, not dead! I keep trying to remind him of that but he doesn't want to discuss Humphries at all. It's like just hearing his name pains him." Grell drew patterns on the mortician's chest with his fingertips. "I am not normally one to be overly sympathetic, my love, but I do feel for him. How much longer must we wait for Will to make a decision about this?"

"Have you talked to the bloke about it since we discussed those options?" pressed Undertaker. "Will's a busy reaper and you just might have to give him a nudge and a reminder."

"True," sighed Grell. "That man is so uptight. I honestly can't recall the last time he took a day off."

"He did for our wedding," reminded the Undertaker with a smirk. "Poor chap looked like he didn't know what to do with himself. Pity he treats relaxation like a crime."

"Yes, Will's always been that way." Grell smirked back. "I think Ronnie is beginning to have a positive effect on him, though. I swear I almost saw William crack a smile at him the other day! I honestly don't know how Knox does it."

"So I take it you don't resent him for being with Spears?" Undertaker ran his nails though Grell's crimson locks, painfully aware of the crush his spouse had harbored on the stiff, tall brunet over the years.

"No," sighed Grell. "I could never resent Ronald of all people...nor can I blame him for falling for Will. I have you now, and I've grudgingly accepted that they seem to be quite good for each other. I can even admit that they make a handsome couple."

Undertaker nodded and he lowered his mouth to Grell's for a kiss. "Good. Just making sure of where I stand, darlin'."

Grell chuckled against his lips and he leaned in closer to him, pressing his body flush against the mortician's. "You stand with me, handsome ghost. I'd have it no other way." He teasingly licked the Undertaker's pale lips, his tongue daintily tracing the contours.

The Undertaker held Grell tighter and he deepened the kiss, parting his lips to caress Grell's probing tongue with his own. He swelled in his pants and he lifted his spouse, beginning to carry him through the curtain in the back of the shop. "Oh, wait," he breathed, remembering the front door was unlocked. "Don't move, lovely. I'll be right back."

Grell watched with a dreamy expression as the mortician hurried to the door to lock it up tight, eliminating the risk of anyone interrupting their activities. He was back at Grell's side in a flash and he scooped him up bridestyle and claimed his lips again. "Now, where were we?"

"I believe you were just about to ravish me," purred Grell.

"Mm, good place to be."

Grinning playfully at the reaper in his arms, the Undertaker carried Grell through the curtains and into the living space in the back of the building. Truthfully he could have moved in with Grell after they wedded, but it was more convenient for him to keep living in his shop. Grell didn't seem to mind that it wasn't as roomy as his old apartment and they'd stored what belongings of his they couldn't fit in the home interior up in the attic. Undertaker had plans to expand the living space eventually, possibly adding a bathroom to the attic and another bed for guests, should anyone come to stay with them. For now they made due with what they had and he was fine with that.

He carried Grell through the kitchen and down the hall to the bedroom—which he'd never really used before he and Grell became lovers. Dropping the redhead onto the pink and black satin sheets, Undertaker covered his body with his own and he kissed him passionately, more than eager to make love to him again.

"Oh, darling," sighed Grell between kisses, his hands eagerly working to free the mortician from his clothing.

For the moment, nothing else existed to them except each other, and soon the air was filled with the sounds of their mutual pleasure and need.

* * *

"Mr. Slingby, I cannot simply send an army of agents into Hell to rescue your partner," William said when the Scotsman came to his office to again prompt him to take action. "You know that company policies don't allow for it, and we cannot risk the lives of our agents when there are already so few of us to begin with. The demon realm is off limits to us, just as our realm is off limits to their kind."

"Yet they came to our realm to fight off the invading angels," reminded Eric. His accent started coming through with his mounting agitation. "Ya didnae object too strongly when tha' happened, boss."

"Nonsense," scoffed William. "I objected quite vehemently, if you recall. I would almost rather existence end than accept their aid and you know that perfectly well. Regardless, Humphries made a deal with them and we must honor that. We cannot start a war with Hell, no matter how much we would like our colleague to be free."

"But it's no' a fair contract!" snapped Eric. He stood up and paced the floor with agitation. "In tha end it wasnae tha demons tha' stopped 'em from taking tha library; it was Gabriel. Tha' should make their bloody contract invalid, shouldn't it?" That was Grell and Undertaker's logic anyway, and Eric clung to it like a lifeline because it was his best hope of freeing Alan from a century of servitude to the duke he'd bargained with.

William scratched his chin with a gloved hand, one eyebrow lifting elegantly. "That is an interesting point, but whatever makes you think their kind will accept it and agree to free him? They are demons, Eric Slingby. They aren't likely to negotiate with our kind for the release of one of our own, even if the situation truly does render the contract null and void."

"Ye've got tae at least let me try, Will," insisted Eric, stopping to put his hands on William's desk and bend over to look him in the eye. "Wha' if it were Ronnie, eh? Wouldn't ya do anything in yer power tae free him?"

He hated to throw that at his boss—especially since Ronald Knox happened to be Eric's own flesh and blood. He was desperate though, and he needed to get through to the stoic brunet that somehow managed to keep his emotions so tightly reigned in. He needed to make him understand and he knew the man must have a heart _somewhere_ beneath that rigid exterior. Otherwise why would he be with Ronald?

"I do understand your feelings, Eric," sighed William, "but this is not a simple matter."

"Then make it simple," pleaded Eric. "Send me in tae deal wi' it, an' if I get killed it'll be mah own fault. Ya can at least give me tha' much, boss."

"I cannot allow you to go into Hell alone." Will frowned and he threaded his fingers together, propping his elbows on the desk. "The board would never agree to that and you know it."

"Than don't tell them." Eric held his gaze, willing him to get on his side. "At least 'till after I've gone. All I'm asking for is a chance, boss."

Will lowered his gaze, for once appearing indecisive. "You really aren't going to let this go, are you?"

Eric shook his head and he tamed his accent to make himself perfectly clear to the other man. "Not a chance, sir. Al's not just my work partner. He's my life partner too and I'm not giving him up...not even temporarily. A hundred years might not seem like a long time to the average reaper but for me, it's a lifetime. He's my soul mate."

Will met his gaze again and for a good long moment, they just had a staring contest. Eric buckled down and refused to look away, and to his surprise the supervisor finally caved and looked away.

"Take agent Sutcliff with you...and the Undertaker, should he be willing to assist. I can turn my back on this for a time, but I warn you this will result in disciplinary measures when the board learns you've violated protocol."

Eric relaxed and he shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time, boss...not for me _or_ for Grell. Thank you, Will."

William's mouth thinned with irritation. "You may thank me by returning alive and whole, Eric Slingby—preferably with your partner. Our division cannot afford to lose all of its best officers."

Eric's brows shot up and for the first time since Alan left with the demons, he managed one of his signature smirks that tended to cause both women and men to fan themselves. "Did you just call Grell Sutcliff one of your best officers, Will?"

"What of it?" William's tone was grudging and tight. "Sutcliff may be a bloody thorn in my side on most days, but I cannot argue against his results in the field. Why else would I be sending him with you?"

Knowing better than to tease William when he was in a mood like this, Eric counted his blessings and saluted him. "Thanks, boss. I'll go speak with Grell and the Undertaker now. We'll be out of here before anyone knows what happened."

"See to it that you are," agreed William. "I'm putting myself in a difficult position, you know. This could very well cause marks against me."

"They'd never fire you," Eric said with certainty. "You're the only one that knows how to keep this division running the way it does and they'd be hurting themselves by assigning anyone else to your job."

Will smirked subtly, accepting the compliment. "Indeed. Good luck to you, Officer Slingby."

* * *

Once Eric was gone, William sighed and rubbed his forehead. "At least he did not send Ronald to do his dirty work for him."

Slingby had figured out that Ronald was the one kink in his armor and whenever he wanted something that William was not prepared to grant him, he'd formed the habit of sending Ron to ask for him. William was no fool and he knew exactly what was going on whenever his lover came to him to beg a favor for his best friend. It didn't help that Eric Slingby also happened to be Ronald's biological father, regardless of how seldom either of them ever acted like father and son. Ronald couldn't say no to Eric and William couldn't _always_ say no to Ronald. Between the Scotsman and Grell, William feared he might one day snap and simply quit his job.

There was a knock at his door and the supervisor looked up and stopped rubbing his forehead. "Enter."

Speak of the devil, Ronald Knox poked his blond/black head in and smiled at William. "Hiya boss. Feel like having a little company for lunch?"

Will glanced at his watch, vaguely surprised. It was nearly two pm. He'd completely forgotten to take a lunch break again. Ronald knew him too well, it seemed, because the young man stepped through the door with a deli bag in one hand. William's expression softened as his lover closed the door behind him and crossed the room, the smell of hot food wafting up from the bag he carried.

"However did you know, Ronald?"

Knox shrugged and he hopped onto Will's desk before setting the bag down in front of him. "I've gotten to know your routine, Will. I'm not gonna let you pass out on me again if I can help it."

William inwardly grimaced. He had indeed collapsed recently after neglecting to eat for nearly two days. His clothing was beginning to fit looser and he really needed to be more conscious of his body's needs. "Thank you," he said solemnly, and he opened the deli bag to procure the wrapped sandwich. It was a heated meatball sub with melted cheese and his stomach growled as he unwrapped it and pulled the napkins out of the bag.

"I hope that's okay," Ronald said as Will took his first bite. "I know y' don't usually like the messy stuff but they were all out of your usual. Oh, here...I brought you a drink from the machine, too." He reached into his blazer to remove a capped bottle of soda from an inner pocket. "Don't know how you can stand this diet stuff. Yuck."

"To each their own," said Will calmly after chewing and swallowing. He opened the bottle and he chased down the bite with a sip of the beverage. He studied Ronald as he took another bite, and he wondered if he should tell him what Eric planned to do. He was, after all, one of the few people Will trusted.

Ronald tilted his head slightly, his gaze curious on William. "Something on your mind, sexy?"

Will sighed. "If I tell you this, I need it to remain completely confidential. Do you understand, Ronald?"

Ron's brows went up. "You did something. Holy shit, what'd you do, boss?"

William smirked at the reaction. Yes indeed; Ronald had come to know him better than most, and just like before when he'd enabled Grell to break the Undertaker out of the facility to save him from a fate worse than death, Ronald seemed shocked that he would bend the rules. "I did nothing, and that is what could get me and others into trouble with the board."

"Okaaay..." Ronald scratched his head. "So what did you not do that could get you in trouble?"

"I chose not to inform my superiors that Slingby is going to go and challenge his partner's contract with that demon. I will of course inform them later that I discovered he went behind my back to do this, but by then he will have already entered Hell and it will be too late for us to stop him."

Ronald stiffened, eyes going wide behind the chunky black frames of his glasses. "Y-you sent my best mate t' _Hell_? All by himself?"

"He was determined, Ronald," explained William. "I made a difficult decision based on what I know of Officer Slingby and believe me when I say to you he would have eventually done this on his own, no matter what I said. My only other choice would have been to have him detained for his own good."

Ronald hopped off the desk and he began to pace; much like Slingby had done earlier. "I can't believe it! I would have gone with him if I'd known!"

"I would not have allowed it." William set aside his sandwich for the moment and he affixed Ronald with a stern stare. "It's bad enough that Eric is determined to take such a foolish and dangerous course. I _did_ agree to let him take Sutcliff and the Undertaker with him, however. He will not be completely alone."

Ronald sighed. "Shit. You _know_ they aren't going to just let him breeze in and leave with Alan, right? He'll be lucky if they don't tear him apart! He's...he's not just my friend, Will. He's my dad!"

"I know that," assured William calmly. "He is also one of the most bull-headed reapers I have ever worked with. Had I any other recourse at my disposal I would have used it, but the board would never allow me to send a team in and possibly start a war. Slingby will have to deal with the consequences of his own actions, no matter what comes of this. Styx willing, he'll make it out alive with his partner but if not..."

He trailed off upon noticing the color drain from Ronald's face. He hadn't meant to make such a point of how perilous this was going to be.

"What if they hold him and the others prisoner too," demanded Ronald. "Are we just gonna let them rot in Hell, sir?"

Will sighed. "If Eric does not return to us within a week, I shall escalate this matter and request intervention. One good agent is a bad enough loss, but the additional loss of two more might be enough to sway the board and allow me to take more direct action. Do you see, Ronald? They would never approve a forceful rescue of Humphries alone, but if his partner, Grell and a legendary icon are also taken prisoner, they may make an exception."

Ronald stopped pacing and he stared at him. "So you didn't just do this because you figured Eric would go whether you approved it or not. You purposely suggested he take Grell and Undertaker with him so you can finally act?"

William nodded. "It was the only way I could possibly act within the boundaries of protocol, Ronald."

Ron whistled softly and shook his head. "That's a big gamble, Will. There's no guarantee they'll get taken alive if they get overwhelmed."

"Agreed, but I am counting on the Undertaker's fame to have an influence in that. Even demon kind know of him, and I would hope they would not be eager to kill such an influential reaper. Taking him hostage to make demands of Dispatch would better suit their interests."

"But what would demons even _want_ from Dispatch?" Ronald pointed out, "and even if they do what you hope, that doesn't mean they'll want to keep Grell or Eric alive!"

"Grell they would keep alive to force the Undertaker's cooperation," reasoned William. "Eric, on the other hand might not be of any value to them. That is his risk to take, however. As for what they might want of Dispatch, I imagine it would benefit them to have the treaty between our kind amended so that they no longer must respect Shinigami agents' claim on the mortal souls we reap. As you know we aren't allowed to interfere with demonic contracts and they are not permitted to interfere with our reaps. They could demand that agreement to be dissolved in exchange for the release of the Undertaker and the others. They aren't particularly imaginative creatures, Ronald."

"That's what worries me," muttered Ronald. "I don't want any of 'em taken prisoner and I sure don't want them to get killed. But maybe if Undertaker's with them it'll be okay. The old guy managed to take on me, Grell _and_ that Phantomhive demon at once, after all."

William chose not to mention the obvious; that the three of them weren't just going to be facing a couple of reapers and a single demon. They were going into the demons' home realm, and they were going to be extremely outnumbered. Not even the Undertaker's prowess in battle would be enough against an entire legion of demons.

"Come here," ordered William. He scooted his chair back and beaconed to Ronald. The blond hesitated for a moment before obeying, and he sighed as he sat down in Will's lap and put his arms around his neck. Will cupped his chin to force him to meet his eyes. "If I could have convinced Slingby to let this go and give me time to find another option, I would have. You know as well as I though; once that man gets an idea in his head he does not let it go. If you'd have seen his eyes you no doubt would have arrived at the same conclusion as I did, Ronald. Just trust in Slingby's determination to be with his partner again, if nothing else. It may very well be the thing that saves his life in the end."

Ronald almost pouted. "Still wish you'd told me about this sooner."

William was unrepentant. "I would not risk you that way." He flushed uncomfortably when Ron's eyes met his with surprise. "Yes, I did just say that aloud. Close your mouth before you attract flies...love."

Ronald blinked and it was clear to Will that if the circumstances were different, he'd have hooted with elation. Though he was obviously terribly worried about his mentor and Eric, a little smile began to curve his lips. "Did...did you just use an endearment, Will? _You_?"

"You have a tendency to bring out the worst in me," answered William dryly, smirking at him. He sighed and he combed Ronald's bangs out of his eyes with his fingers. "I would tell you not to worry so, but I know that would be useless. Just know that I shall do whatever I can within protocol if our associates do not make it out of there on their own. You do believe me, don't you?"

Ronald bit his lip. After a moment's reflection, he nodded. "You're real smart, Will. You don't do things the way the rest of us do but you always seem t' have a card up your sleeve. I...I trust you to try for our friends, even if you've got an obscure way of doing it."

William relaxed, pleased that Ronald forgave him for his subtle manipulations and strategic methods. "I sometimes wish I could do things more openly. I admire your passion and utter lack of inhibitions, Ronald. I simply operate differently."

Ron managed another hint of a smile for him. "And it usually works out when you pull strings, boss. I admire how clever you are, finding all these loopholes and using 'em to your advantage. I just hope this doesn't go sour on us all. I don't know what I'd do without my 'big sis' or my best mate."

William finally allowed himself to feel a touch of regret and he drew Ronald close, cupping the back of his head to draw his lips to his own. Perhaps it was short-sighted of him to suggest Eric bring Grell along. If this did go badly, Ronald stood to lose two reapers that were dear to him. He knew, however, that Eric's chances were best with the Undertaker accompanying him and he also knew that Grell would never stay behind while his husband went into Hell. He kissed Ronald more deeply, deciding that intimacy was the best way to distract him from his worries. The younger reaper responded favorably as always, his fingers deftly loosening Will's tie as he took advantage of the sensual attention he was getting.

Will forgot all about his sandwich and he focused on pleasing Ronald, after that. He was very, very good at it, as well. By now he knew every inch of Ron's body...every freckle, every sensitive area. He quickly had the blond flushed with passion and moaning his name, lying on top of his desk. Ronald came the moment Will finally entered him and he sat up and embraced the brunet, begging him for more. William didn't even care when his lunch got knocked off the desk onto the floor, nor did he care about the slippery mess coating his abdomen from Ronald's climax. He kissed Ron deeply and he took his time, deciding not to get rough with him this time.

"I love you," moaned Ronald as William began to slowly thrust. His legs twined around Will's waist and he held him tightly, nibbling and kissing his shoulder.

As usual, William's ability to reciprocate such an endearment with words locked up on him...but he demonstrated his reciprocal feelings with his actions. He pulled back a bit and he locked gazed with Ronald as he made love to him, breath huffing with each delightful pump. He reached out to trace the younger man's blushing features with his fingertips and he felt him beginning to harden against his stomach again, slowly becoming erect as each push of Will's cock pleasured him. He couldn't say what was actually in his heart yet, but Ronald seemed to understand just by gazing into his eyes. Someday, perhaps. Knox certainly deserved to know that he felt the same.

Will lasted for some twenty minutes longer and he gave Ronald another orgasm, using both his hands and the thrusts of his cock to draw a yell of completion from him. He couldn't hold back any longer after that and he sped up his thrusts and groaned when it happened, hugging Ronald tight as he unloaded inside of him.

"W-Will," gasped Ronald, head falling back and eyes shut. He stroked the brunet's perspiration-dampened hair as he tensed and shuddered with release. "How the hell do ya do this to me all the time. Damn, that was good."

"Agreed," panted William. As soon as Ronald straightened his head, William bowed his own to rest his heated forehead against the blond's. "Am I forgiven, then?"

Ronald kissed him. "I wasn't angry with you to begin with. Just confused and a little...scared. I'm actually glad you told him to bring Grell and Undertaker with him. Those are the two best reapers to have at his back. Just wish the higher-ups would have let you do something before it came to this, is all." He kissed Will's jaw and throat, sighing softly against his skin. "Think they'll make it, Will?"

The supervisor hesitated. He rubbed his lover's back and he tried to think of a positive way to express his thoughts. "I believe that their chances are exceptionally better with the Undertaker accompanying them. You know how I respect him, though."

"Yeah, I know." Ronald pulled away to smile at him, though his lips trembled a bit. "If I didn't know any better I'd think you'd have gotten with that old mad coot, if I hadn't snatched you up first."

"Not at all," assured William. "He doesn't seem to share my respect, for one thing. For another, the Undertaker is more of a role model for me than a romantic interest. I very much doubt he could make me feel the way you do even if anything ever happened between us."

Ronald smiled in that endearing, unrestrained way of his. "That's the best thing I've heard all day, Will."

* * *

-To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

"I've got a favor to ask."

Grell pulled his robe tighter around him and he frowned at Eric. Slingby had shown up at the Undertaker's shop in mortal London just moments ago and Grell had been the one to answer the door when he started knocking and ringing the bell. "If this is about a body I'm afraid you'll have to come back during my darling's business hours. You haven't done anything terribly naughty, have you Eric?"

"No, nothing like that," explained Slingby. "This is about Alan and you two are probably the only ones that can help me."

Grell sighed. At least Eric showed up _after_ he and the Undertaker had already made sweet love. He'd have been miffed if they'd been interrupted. "Eric, you dear, handsome thing...I would love to go charging into Hell with you, carving my way through the demon masses in a noble attempt to rescue your love, but even _I_ know when the odds are too great against me."

Although he and Undertaker had discussed the possibility of attempting to free Alan many times before. They just hadn't come up with a solid plan on how to accomplish that.

"Besides," Grell added thoughtfully, "We would need a demon to escort us. Not even my sweet madman has the power to create a portal to Hell. Therein lies the biggest obstacle to overcome. We are restricted from their realm just as they are restricted from ours."

"I know that," sighed Eric, "but we've got a demon we could go to for that. The same one Alan convinced to take him there to negotiate with that bloody Duke that's holding him prisoner now."

"Oh, you mean Sebby." Grell's eyes went dreamy for a moment, but then he shrugged. "I'm afraid that isn't an option, darling. We had something to offer him when he did that. What have we to offer him now?"

"How 'bout his life," growled Eric, lapsing into his Scottish accent. "Tha three of us could ambush him an' let him go in exchange fer a portal. Ya said yerself tha' Undertaker took him down once all on his own. Wi' three of us he wouldnae stand a chance."

"My, my," came another voice from behind the curtains separating the shop from the living space, "your sense of diplomacy seems a bit lacking, Mr. Slingby."

Undertaker stepped out from behind the curtain, wearing a black robe with pink skull prints on it. His long silver hair was mussed and it was easy to guess what he and Grell had been up to together before Eric arrived.

Remembering whom he was addressing Eric gave a respectful nod and he tempered his accent. "Evening, sir. I'm sorry to interrupt anything, but I've got nowhere else to turn."

"So I heard." The mortician approached Grell and he embraced the redhead from behind. " Even if you can get him to make your portal, how are you planning to get through a legion of demons to your Alan?"

"I was planning to try and reason with them," explained Eric, "tell them why Alan's contract isn't binding. I know Faustian contracts dissolve if the demon fails to fulfill his or her part of it or if their master dies before it can be done. This shouldn't be any different."

"Ah, but there's still a problem with your plan. Say you get through the portal and make it to the court of Bones for a chat with His Grace. Problem with your plan is Mr. Michaelis is somewhat of a court figure in his part of Hell. Word's gonna get out you kidnapped him and forced his hand. The ol' duke won't like that 'tall, my lad. He isn't likely to listen to what you've got to say and you'll wind up torn to peaces right before your lover's eyes."

Eric deflated somewhat. "There has to be some way to convince him, then. I can't leave Alan in that place for another year. It's just not right."

"Hmm, well there's a chance I might be able to talk the little Earl in to letting us 'borrow' his servant," pondered the Undertaker as he scratched his chin. "I wouldn't put too much hope on that, though. True, Sebastian has to follow Ciel's orders and that might have been how Alan got his help the last time, but Ciel isn't too fond of Grell and I've called on him for a lot of favors in the recent past. He might not be in a giving enough mood to grant yet another one so soon."

Grell nodded, recalling himself that Ciel had told them he was doing them no more favors after the last time he made arrangements for them to leave the country when Undertaker was still a fugitive. "Still, we could try. I think the brat is rather fond of you, darling."

"If you could convince him to help us with this, I'd be forever grateful," Eric practically pleaded—such an out of character thing for him to do that Grell felt pity for him.

Without asking his spouse first, Grell approached Eric and he patted his shoulder. "We'll figure out something, handsome. Unnie and I will go with you too, if Bassy comes through for us."

Undertaker sighed. "I s'pose I'll go along with the wife on that."

Grell smiled over his shoulder at him. "What a prudent choice, my love. You're so very good to me."

"I'd better get going, then," said the mortician. He started for the door and he grabbed his hat off the hook on the wall, cramming it onto his head. "Shouldn't be out for too long, rose. I'm not dropping in for dinner this time, so the little lord will either boot me out or agree. Keep your fingers crossed, yeah?"

"Uh, Undertaker," Eric called when the ancient reaper began to open the front door of his shop, "aren't you forgetting something?"

The Undertaker paused and he turned around. "Eh?" His partly concealed gaze went to Grell and he smiled. "Oh, of course! A hubby should never leave the home without giving his lady a kiss, after all."

He walked over to Grell and he put his arms around him before kissing him lingeringly. "Mm, love you m'dear. Hold the fort while I'm gone."

"I was talking about your robe," pressed Eric when the mortician started to head for the door again. He nodded and smirked. "Are you going to show up like that?"

Undertaker looked down at himself, a bit startled. "Oh my. I'd forgotten I was wearing this. Well, I'd best go and make myself a bit more presentable before heading off, then."

Grell giggled at his husband, waving at him as the mortician hurried through the curtain to change and run a brush through his hair. "Let me know if you need any help, my love. I'm always happy to assist a hunk with his garments."

* * *

"Sebastian."

The demon butler glanced at his master. "Yes, my lord?"

"You were gone again last night—for the _entire_ night. I want to know where it is you keep sneaking off to, two to three nights per week."

Sebastian smiled calmly at Ciel, revealing nothing of his inner thoughts. "Nowhere that would interest you, my lord. So long as you are safe and I'm by your side throughout the day and during your investigations, what does it matter?"

"It matters because you are my butler," the boy insisted, "and I like to know where my servants are at all times."

Sebastian put a thoughtful finger to his jaw. "At all times, sir? Even when they relieve themselves in the loo?"

"Don't be obscene," snorted the young noble. He stirred his tea and he sipped it delicately. "What they do on their personal time is not my concern. You however, are my bodyguard as well as my butler. I need to be able to count on you to come to my aid if I should need it in the night."

Sebastian bowed at the waist. "And so you shall, my lord."

Ciel looked at him suspiciously, his uncovered blue eye sweeping over him. "You're also getting fat. How is that possible? Are you out dining on souls when you go out? Perhaps gorging yourself?" A cold little smile grew on his lips. "Has the starvation diet finally gotten the better of you?"

Sebastian's gaze flicked downwards to his own waistline. "Well if you must know, my lord...yes. I have indulged a bit here and there. Of course none of them are as satisfying as yours will be in the end, but it would be illogical for me to continue going without and weaken as a result. However could I fulfill our contract if that were to happen?"

"I see. Well, don't be seen doing it and for goodness sake, don't put on so much weight you cannot fight."

Sebastian inclined his head, a light smirk on his pale lips. "Yes, my lord. I—"

Tanaka knocked on the study door then, interrupting whatever Sebastian had been prepared to say. "Lord Phantomhive, the Undertaker is here requesting a visit with you. Shall I send him in?"

Ciel made an annoyed sound. "I _told_ that man not to come asking for favors again. Did he say what he wants, Tanaka?"

"Only that he wants a 'chat', my lord," explained Tanaka. "He did not go into details."

The youth sighed. Despite his desire not to do further business with the Undertaker, he had to admit that he was curious. From what he understood, the mortician was back to his old work and in a relationship with that annoying red lunatic he'd brought with him to Ciel's home the last time he saw him.

"Show him in," he finally said.

* * *

It was a brief meeting. Just as his master suspected, the Undertaker had come to request assistance. Evidently he wished to "borrow" Sebastian for a portal into Hell so that he and his ragtag group of Shinigami could try to rescue their associate Alan Humphries from his century-long contract of servitude. The foolish old man seemed crestfallen when Ciel abruptly refused and had Sebastian escort him out. After that, Sebastian was forced to listen to Ciel ranting over the nerve of the man until he finally pacified him with a gourmet dessert.

Now night had fallen and Sebastian had already put his young mater to bed. The manor was quiet and he took the opportunity to check his reflection in one of the large mirrors of a guest room. Sebastian unbuttoned his waistcoat and he lifted his shirt to check his abdomen. He was indeed beginning to show signs, and it would only get more pronounced with time. He licked pale lips and straightened his clothing back up. He was hungry again, and he was no closer to fulfilling his contract so that he could finally devour the soul he hungered for the most. His crimson eyes glittered under dark locks of black hair as he stared at his reflection. He could feel his teeth sharpening into fangs as the hunger triggered his primal demonic urges and he knew he would become a danger to those in this household if he didn't satisfy them soon.

"Sebastian," the wind seemed to whisper through the open window.

The raven gave pause, his narrowed eyes flicking to the window. He walked over to it and he looked out over the lawn below. Standing in the shadows beneath one of the big oak trees was the figure of a man, and even from the distance, Sebastian recognized the glow of amber eyes. He could sense immediately who it was and he sighed. He also spotted another form lying at the man's feet and he ran his tongue over his sharpening teeth, pupils elongating into slits as he understood what it was for.

He dimmed the lights and he teleported to the lawn in a burst of raven feathers and the scent of brimstone. He nodded elegantly at the pale, handsome man with hair as black as Sebastian's, collar-length and parted to the left. "Claude," he greeted softly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Good evening, Sebastian," replied the spider demon with a soft smirk. "You look well. However you do require sustenance, especially now." Claude's cool yellow gaze went to the other demon's midsection and he looked quite pleased with himself. Almost smug.

Claude reached out to place one white-gloved hand over his belly. Sebastian held still and dignified, torn between the urge to recoil and a completely different urge that had led to this situation to begin with. "I suppose I do," he agreed. His wings came out and his horns grew as his needs made him slip out of his mortal form and into his demon one. He still did not like this demon, but he desired him...and he desired the promise of a meal, as well. He looked at the woman lying on the ground nearby and he raised a brow.

"A beaten down harlot. How very...appetizing."

Claude shrugged elegantly, withdrawing his casually possessive touch. "I had no time to seek out a more elegant meal for your pallet this evening, my raven. I shall do better the next time. You must eat."

Sebastian didn't suffer the same kind of hunger pangs as mortals and reapers, so while his stomach didn't growl, his throat certainly did. His breath quickened as he slowly approached the unconscious mortal and he knelt down to gather her into his arms. He parted his lips to begin draining her and he realized something. He blinked and he looked up at his watching mate—bound to him not by his choice, but by their liege duke's.

"You have tasted her."

Claude nodded calmly. "I did. As I said, she may not be gourmet, but I did at least sample her to be certain she was satisfactory before bringing her to you."

Sebastian barely hid a grimace...but he was in no position to be overly picky. He did require nourishment and the woman's soul was appetizing enough. He began to devour it without further complaints, his body's needs overriding his finicky taste. She awoke partway through and she struggled, but it was too late. He devoured every part of her and when he was finished, all that remained was a dead, empty husk. He released the body and he stood up, dabbing at his lips with his handkerchief.

"No gratitude?" Claude smirked at him again. "Really, you are a most difficult mate at times, Michaelis."

"And you are a most annoying one," countered Sebastian pleasantly. "Thank you for the meal."

Claude moved in closer, his eyes caressing on the raven. "There are better ways to express your approval, you know."

Sebastian held his ground only because he was too proud to back away. "I should think bearing your spawn is sufficient expression of gratitude."

Claude caressed Sebastian's jaw. "I know how you crows are. I know you require sensual pursuits for satisfaction. Shall I assist with that need tonight as well?"

Sebastian's eyes grew heavy lidded as the familiar touch invoked desires he could not ignore. It was especially bad right now, in his condition. He parted his lips, and when Claude's gloved thumb pressed against the bottom one to reveal the bottom row of his sharpened teeth, the butler gave in—purely for the sake of pleasure.

"Yes. You are welcome to try."

Claude moved in on him then, his own arachnid-leg wings emerging as his eyes went from golden to magenta with answering lust. "I would be most pleased to take up the challenge," he murmured, and then his lips covered Sebastian's in a kiss. His tongue stroked and caressed Sebastian's and his gloves were punctured as his nails elongated into black claws.

"Come with me into the shadows," invited Claude, breath quickening. "I have not enjoyed you for two days, Raven."

Sebastian smirked at him. "And I never enjoy you...yet I am compelled to give myself to you."

"You do enjoy me," insisted Claude. He reached up to scratch the base of Sebastian's left horn, making the raven demon lose his train of thought. "Come with me now and I can prove it, my beauty."

"The evidence of our coupling is already apparent," reasoned Sebastian. "That is enough to satisfy the Duke. I am not beholden to mate with you whenever it pleases you, Claude."

"It would please you as well," insisted the other demon with confidence, "and you cannot deny that. True, you are free to reject my offer...but your body would not thank you for it."

Sebastian compressed his lips in an uncommon expression of annoyance. It was true; his body craved this demon's touch...craved the feel of him inside of him. Claude could not and would not physically force him, but Sebastian knew that he would be sexually frustrated as well as perpetually hungry if he turned Claude away tonight. His gaze went to Faustus' extended hand and a hint of a sigh escaped his lips as he reached out and took it.

"This changes nothing," he warned—as he did each time they coupled. "I did as bidden by His Grace, to please the court. I fulfilled my obligation as directed."

Claude smirked in triumph and he led Sebastian into the hedge maze for privacy. "Of course. This is for your own pleasure...and mine."

* * *

Undertaker sighed as he hung his hat back up after stepping through the door of his shop. Eric and Grell were sitting on two of the coffins chatting and they turned to look at him expectantly as he stepped in. "No good, I'm afraid. The Earl _did_ listen to what I had to say, but he didn't bend. He thinks if we break the contract Alan made it'll spell trouble from the Underworld, and there's already been a rise in demon activity in London."

He combed his bangs aside and he looked on Eric with sympathy, though he couldn't see his expression clearly without his glasses. He tended to only were them when cooking or working on cadavers now—save when Grell asked him to wear them for some saucy play. The mortician seated himself beside Eric and now he could see the devastation in the Scotsman's eyes as he looked into them.

"I'm sorry lad. That option would have been easiest, but it's by no means the only one open to us."

Eric studied him with vague suspicion. "What does that mean? A demon portal is the only way we can get into Hell to help Alan."

"True, but who says it has to be a portal made by Mr. Michaelis?" Undertaker smirked slyly. "I was thinking on it on the way back, and like I said: there's been a rise in demon activity in mortal London lately. It can't all be attributed to Sebastian, yeah? There's at least one other demon in the area and if we can find that one, we could try and offer it a deal or like you suggested earlier; force its hand. Just today I found a body drained of its soul, not far from here."

"Oh my," Grell said, fanning himself dramatically. "I wonder if this newcomer is as handsome as Sebas-chan!"

The Undertaker cleared his throat an pointed at himself. "Husband."

Grell gave a feminine giggle and got up from his coffin to seat himself sidelong in the mortician's lap. He kissed him soundly and murmured a promise to him. "Oh my pale prince, you know it's simply my nature. I may appreciate other handsome men, but you are the only one I truly want."

The Undertaker was pacified by that reminder and he put his arms around Grell and rubbed the tip of his nose against the smaller reaper's affectionately. "Just see to it you don't forget that, love."

Eric cleared his throat as the couple began to lock lips again. "So what you're saying is we should try and track this mystery demon—or demons. I could do that while on the job reaping. Grell could to."

Grell broke the kiss with his husband, fair cheeks flushed in reaction to the contact. "Yes! We could do that together! With my darling's underground network, he could point us in the right direction and report any further 'empties' he finds delivered to his shop or on the streets."

The Undertaker nodded. "Right-o. I'll be happy to assist in that. Just do us a favor, Slingby: don't move in on any strange demons you cross paths with alone. You don't know what they could be capable of, so use your head instead of your heart."

Eric gave a stiff nod. "For Alan's sake, I'll be careful. I know demons can be unpredictable. Lost my old partner in Scotland thanks to one of their kind...and now Alan, too." His hands clenched into fists, resting on his knees.

Grell sobered and he reached over to lay a hand over one of Eric's tensed fists. "Save that desire for vengeance for the proper time, darling. You'll spoil your own goals if you let it consume you...take it from a lady that knows."

Eric relaxed with visible difficulty, and he gave the crimson reaper a rueful smirk, his accent lapsing. "Aye, yeh do know better'n most wha' it's like tae be overwhelmed by yer passions." He nodded at the Undertaker. "Him too, I'd wager."

"Two peas in a pod, the wife and I," chuckled the mortician. He gave Grell a squeeze. "You came to the right reapers for help, Eric. If anyone doesn't mind bending the rules a bit, it's us. Try not to fret, chap. We'll find a way."

Eric managed a slight, crooked smile. "Ya give me hope, an' tha's more than I've gotten from anyone else. Thank yeh both." He stood up and brushed his pants off absently. "Guess I'd best get goin' an try tae get some rest. If I'm tae go on this hunt an' succeed at all, I need mah wits."

"Yes, you do," agreed Grell with a nod, "and so do we. Unnie darling, shall we have dinner and retire early? Or rather, _I_ should retire early because I have morning shifts all week. I know you are a creature of the night, my dear madman."

"That I am, but I'll still lie with you and cuddle you 'till you drift off," offered the Undertaker. He eased Grell off his lap and he stood up to shake Eric's hand. "Have a good evening, lad. Just stay focused and keep me updated. Partner up with my lady on the job, if you can. Two heads are better than one, after all."

"Aye." Eric nodded. "G'night, Grell. See ya in tha morning."

Grell gave Eric a hug and a chaste kiss on the cheek, leaving a red imprint of lipstick there. "Sweet dreams, Eric! I shall see you bright and early."

Undertaker saw Eric to the door and he locked it once the Scottish reaper was gone. He turned around to face Grell and he smiled, putting aside the tragedy of Slingby and Humphries for the moment. "Well, what would you like for dinner, pet? A roast? Baked chicken? Casserole?"

Grell sauntered over to the mortician, still clad in his red kimono with pink and black flower prints. He deftly loosened the garment and let it fall open to reveal his nudity beneath. "First I think I should like an appetizer, and then we can decide on the entree."

Stupified by the seductive mood, the Undertaker stared at his spouse's body and he felt the threat of drool coming on. He wiped his mouth absently and he searched for his voice. "That's not really making me think of food, my dear."

Grell laughed softly and he reached up to put his arms around the ancient's neck. "You daft, silly old man. I meant I want my _husband_ as an appetizer, of course."

"Oh." The Undertaker felt foolish indeed, and he grinned. "Right. Well then, I think I can arrange that for you, lovely rose." He slipped his hands into the opening of the kimono to put his arms around Grell's waist, pulling him closer. True they'd just recently enjoyed festivities in the bedroom, but he was always up for more. In fact, he was quite "up" already and his pants felt too tights as he lowered his mouth to his wife's and kissed Grell deeply.

* * *

Alan had just finished another long day serving the duke at court, and he was once again interrupted in the process of going to sleep when Mordecai suddenly appeared in his chambers. He sensed the presence of the raven and he sat up with a start. There Mordecai was, perched on the footboard of his bed with unlikely balance—almost like a gargoyle. The demon smiled at Alan in his usually friendly-seeming manner as the reaper reached for his glasses and put them on.

"What are you _doing_ in here?" Alan demanded, tugging the sheets up prudently even though he was fully covered in pajamas. "I thought I made it clear that I don't appreciate you suddenly invading my chambers!"

"But I have news for you, little reaper," answered the raven softly. He tilted his head. "News that might cheer you and put an end to the leaking of your eyes. Will you not listen?"

Alan sighed. At least this time the demon that seemed so determined to befriend him wasn't on top of him and kissing him. "I doubt that, but go ahead." He sat up straighter and he watched Mordecai warily, his good sense telling him not to trust the raven regardless of how friendly he might seem.

Mordecai smiled like a youth with a secret, briefly displaying sharp fangs. "I saw your lion tonight. He was leaving the place where mortals take their dead to be prepared for burial. I always thought that an odd practice. Dead is dead, yes?"

Alan's heartbeat picked up and he swallowed. "How did you 'see' him? Aren't you confined to Hell for a century like me?"

Mordecai looked around as if checking for onlookers—which there weren't any—and he hopped off the footboard nimbly and sat down on the bed. "Shh," he advised, putting a pale, clawed finger against his lips. His smile became mischievous and he spoke in a whisper. "I've been restricted, true. But this raven decided: 'why should I go hungry', and he found a way to visit the mortal realm without being detected."

Alan was briefly confused by the way Mordecai referred to himself in third person. Then it dawned on him that this demon had literally claimed to find a way to portal out of Hell without his kin knowing it, and a spark of hope ignited in his breast. He had to be careful with that though. Mordecai could easily be lying to him. For all Alan knew, he was instructed to 'befriend' or seduce him to test his loyalty.

"You could get into very great trouble if the court learns you've snuck away."

Mordecai nodded. "Yes, I could. I trust you won't be the one to oust me though. If you revealed it, then how could I help you?"

Alan's wariness increased, even as that damnable hope rose. "You want to help me?"

Mordecai nodded again. "Indeed."

The reaper's quick mind put together the possibilities of where this could be leading, but Alan was no fool. "This place you described...who operates it?"

"A reaper, like yourself." Mordecai chuckled. "Well, perhaps not like yourself. He's very old, this one. Possibly older than our duke. He wears a strange hat and layers of dark robes. He's as pale as the snow and he is scarred from battles long past. I would not cross that one."

Alan's pulse quickened again. The Undertaker. Mordecai was describing the Undertaker and his shop, and it sounded like Eric had paid the man a visit. He retained caution, refusing to give away his eagerness and say more until he got the full picture. "You claim to have seen Eric there. What was he doing?"

"Ah, that I do not know," answered the raven. "Even in my animal form, the ancient one's feathered minions would have noticed I was not truly one of them, and they'd have alerted him to my presence. I only saw him leave and I followed him into a space between buildings. He summoned a portal back to his own realm, but I heard him whisper your name. He thinks of you still."

Alan closed his eyes and swallowed, feeling the sting of tears behind his eyelids.

"What's this?" demanded Mordecai. "I told you this to quell that leaking, not provoke it. Does it not please you to know that your mate is still alive and well, and thinking of you?"

"Yes, it does," explained the young reaper after wiping his eyes. "But it hurts. I miss him. The fact that you can see him and I can't just makes it hurt more."

Mordecai almost pouted. "I...see. It was my intention to ease your pain..."

Alan nearly chuckled despite the ache in his heart. He could almost feel sorry for the demon as Mordecai's great black wings visibly drooped. "You meant well...I think. As I've explained to you before: reaper and mortal hearts are complex. It isn't your fault you have no concept of love."

He hesitated for a moment before timidly putting forth the main question on his mind. "How is it you intend to help me?"

Mordecai looked up from staring down at the bedding, his ruby gaze slightly puzzled. "I'm not certain yet. I honestly could not tell you why this raven even feels the compulsion to try, and yet I find myself curiously interested in it."

Alan began to think that he was having an unintended influence on this creature. Demons weren't known for compassion, sympathy or love, but Mordecai was a daring sort and it was entirely possible that his interest in helping him was only to see if he _could_. He was truthfully beginning to like Mordecai too, and as much as he wanted to get back to his world and Eric, he knew he would never forgive himself if the only person he could almost call "friend" in this place suffered on his account.

"Mordecai?" Alan breathed a resolved sigh as the demon met his eyes inquisitively. "I...I do appreciate your checking in on Eric, even if you only snuck away to feed. It does help to know he's safe. However, there isn't anything you can do for me. I signed a contract. If I break that, it could cause conflict between our people and I cannot agree to you putting yourself at risk to help me. If you could just...watch over him for me? I can't believe I'm even suggesting it from a demon—no offense—but if you insist on sneaking out, just try to check in on Eric whenever you can and let me know how he's doing."

Mordecai's brows knitted with confusion. "You intend to stay, then?"

"You can't guarantee that someone would not trace it back to you if you helped me leave this place," Alan explained regretfully, "and...well, you _are_ the first demon I've ever thought could be a friend."

His admittance seemed to confuse the raven more. "Friend. Hmm. I've heard you use that word more than once. What _is_ a friend, Alan Humphries?"

Alan smiled gently. "A friend is someone you know you can count on. A companion—not a romantic one or a 'mate'—but someone you enjoy spending time with and talking to, nonetheless. Someone you know has your best interests at heart, and someone you feel you would defend or help if possible when they are in trouble."

Mordecai tilted his head curiously. "This sounds suspiciously like allies."

Alan practiced patience with the demon. "Well, yes. The concept is the same, but a friend is more than just an ally. It's someone who shares interests with you, or at least listens to your ideas and shares their own. Friends sometimes become lovers...or mates, if you will. That was how Eric and I started out."

"Ah, I think I see." Mordecai plucked absently at Alan's bedsheets with his claws. "It seems then...that I have procured my first 'friend' with you, little reaper."

Alan smiled again. "So it would seem. I only hope you are what you seem to be, Mordecai."

The demon blinked at him. "Demons can be deceitful as a whole, I agree...but only when it suits us. Why would I reveal my secret to you and risk myself if I had any reason to lie?"

"I would like to know that answer myself," admitted the reaper. "Please don't take it personally, but I have good reason to be wary."

Mordecai shrugged. "Yes, you do. Well then, I will not mention my thoughts on sparing you this servitude unless you bring it up from now on. I will also prove to you that I am not deceiving you. When I manage to venture to the mortal realm I will seek out your mate if he happens to be there, and I will inform you of what I learn."

"Just don't approach him directly," advised Alan. "Eric...he has a grudge against demonkind and he might try to reap first and ask questions later. For death's sake, try not to get caught when you feed, too. I know your kind has to eat as well but Dispatch has protocols that all agents are expected to follow, when it comes to demons feeding on our reaping marks."

"I will take that into account," promised Mordecai. He smirked and he reached out to brush Alan's bangs out of his eyes. The touch lingered for only a moment, but he seemed to have gained a greater respect for Alan's choice not to partake in sensual encounters with anyone other than Eric, and he pulled back. "Take your rest now, little reaper."

Just like that, Mordecai was gone in a burst of black fathers. Alan sighed as they floated down to the floor and onto his bed. "Seems I'm going to have to sweep again in the morning."

* * *

After leaving Alan's bedchambers, Mordecai walked the halls of the court of bones and he wondered over his own recent behavior. Oh, the sneaking out part was quite normal for him, but he did not understand why he felt this nagging compulsion to help the young reaper that was meant to stay with them for a hundred years.

"Ninety-eight now, actually," he realized under his breath. Really, a century wasn't so long for an immortal of any sort, but Alan's pining for his handsome mate truly bothered the raven. He passed right by some of his usual interests without even noticing them, he was so deep in thought. The moans of the tortured deceased condemned to Hell barely phased him as he walked past the pits, his thoughts consumed by these strange, alien notions that kept cropping up in his mind.

"Is this feeling...sympathy?"

Mordecai halted his steps abruptly, the spiked heels of his boots clicking on the shifting pavement. Demons weren't meant to feel empathy...or love...or sorrow...

Or friendship.

Fortunately, Mordecai was a versatile raven. He was adventurous and daring, and the notion that he could be developing feelings that were generally not to his nature intrigued him more than alarmed him. The only sense of alarm he felt was when he noticed a familiar spider demon approaching him, looking suave in his tailored suit and custom glasses. He bowed to the amber-eyed demon, lowering his gaze.

"Lord Faustus," he greeted humbly. "Welcome back."

Claude's gaze swept over Mordecai as he stopped. "Greetings...er...I've quite forgotten your name."

"Mordecai," offered the raven as he straightened back up. He smiled lazily at him, spreading his wings briefly. "You've taken one of my cousins as a mate, as I understand it."

Claude smirked. "Ah, yes. You are the youngling of the murder. Sebastian spoke of you briefly. Have you been behaving yourself, little raven?"

Mordecai laughed softly. "Do I ever, my lord?" His gaze swept over Faustus and he had to admit he was an attractive specimen. "Rumor has it my cousin is in a...delicate condition now. I would be happy to attend your needs when he comes to a point where he is unable."

"Not necessary." Claude removed his eyewear to polish the lenses with a soft cloth. "I'm quite pleased with your cousin's...performance. Just see to it you practice more caution in the future, Mordecai. I can overlook some things, but there are limitations."

Mordecai tilted his head in a bird-like manner, not entirely pretending his ignorance. "What 'things' might those be, my lord?" He had after all done several things he oughtn't have done recently, but Claude was a crafty spider.

Claude smirked and put his glasses back on, his amber gaze briefly going magenta as they met Mordecai's. "Choose one or many. Simply practice caution. I say this out of respect for my mate."

"I...see." Mordecai found the spider demon even more attractive at that moment. It certainly helped that he was the duke's second in command. "This raven shall practice more caution then. My offer is always open if you feel yourself desiring company when my cousin is not available to you."

Claude looked him over thoughtfully. He reached out to take a strand of Mordecai's long, midnight hair and he allowed it to sift through his fingers. "A tempting offer, I admit." He leaned in to speak into the raven demon's ear. "Perhaps I will take you up on it after all. I do adore you ravens, after all. So sensual...so needful."

Mordecai flushed in reaction and he wondered how in the world his cousin Sebastian could be so reluctant to mate with this man. "I'm at your service, Lord Faustus."

"Good." Claude said it pleasantly as he pulled away and he spared one last, lingering glance at Mordecai before nodding. "Just do try not to disgrace yourself in the meantime. I may call on you...eventually."

Mordecai watched him go, and he suffered some frustration. He'd seen to his feeding needs and now he needed to take care of other needs. He had plenty of options, though. Despite his personal frustrations, his thoughts again drifted to Alan and he again pondered why he had developed this odd rapport with the reaper. Such a thing was dangerous, and yet he wasn't fearful of it. He was more fearful of what the duke and Claude Faustus might say or do if they discovered him developing the abnormal emotions that belonged nowhere in Hell.

* * *

-To be continued

*_Author's note: Okay, so I fibbed when I said there would never be Mpreg in this fanfic series, but that was concerning reapers. Please don't kill me._


	3. Chapter 3

As the days passed, Eric and Grell partnered up for their assignments and they paid extra careful attention to any signs of demonic activity in the area. Demons weren't quite so easy to track down, however. Sebastian had been one thing, due to his being slowed down by his human master. A demon on its own or with another of its kind was quite another matter. The Undertaker assisted as best he could, reporting any "empties" that came to his shop and giving what details he could surrounding their deaths, but so far they had come up with no real leads.

Eric was getting frustrated and Ronald wasn't helping with his questions. The younger reaper was clearly worried for him and he'd either guessed by now or been informed by William what Slingby had planned.

"Ya know there's not a thing I wouldn't do to help if you needed it," reminded Ronald one day in the office break room. "Alan's my mate too."

"There's nothing we can do," Eric told him cautiously. He didn't _want_ Ronald directly involved in this and he was sure Will didn't, either. "At least, not right now. I know you'd help if you could, Ronnie."

The boy sighed and he filled up two mugs with the freshly brewed coffee—one for him and one for their boss. "Guess there's no point in playing dumb. Will told me you came to him, Eric."

The Scotsman sighed and took a sip of his own beverage. "He shouldn't have done that."

Ronald turned to regard him with a blend of feelings on his youthful face. "Why not? You're my best mate. More than that, you're also my blood. I think I deserve t' know when my Pop's trying to plan a trip to Hell, Eric."

Eric smirked. "What good does it do you? I can't get in without a demon anyhow, so unless you can bring one to me to help it's all for nothing."

"Pfft, there's plenty of 'em out there," reasoned the younger man. "Like that Sebastian guy Grell's always fawning over. Haven't you tried him?"

Eric shushed Ronald when another agent came in to get some refreshment, and he nodded pointedly at the hallway. "Come on."

Ronald followed him out into the hallway and to his office. Once they were inside and the door was shut, Eric addressed the young man's question. "Undertaker already tried Michaelis, an' tha Phantomhive kid forbade it. If I'm tae get a demon's help it'll have tae be a different one. Problem is their kind isnae so easy tae track down when they dun' want tae be found."

"Well I can help with that," insisted Ronald.

"No' by yerself," warned Eric. "I've been partnering up wi' Grell in case we can track one down. If we aren't taking one on alone, neither are you."

Ron clucked his tongue. "Like I'd be reckless enough to do that. Have a little faith in my wits!"

"I dun' trust anyone but me, Will or Greel tae watch yer back against a demon," persisted Eric with a frown. "Nothin' against our other coworkers but deliberately goin' after a demon is a verrah dangerous thing, an' Will's too busy tae go on patrols wi' ya."

"Well then why can't the Undertaker get off his creepy bum and go out reaping with Senpai?" Ronald shrugged. "She's his wife, after all. You an I can pair up and take one side of London while they pair up and take the other side. We'd cover more ground that way."

Eric scratched his chin. He hadn't thought to suggest that idea himself. "Yer a smart kid Ronnie, when yeh aren't thinking of partying all tha time." He went to his desk and he pressed Grell's number on the quick-dial list of his office phone. "I'll call him now an' suggest it."

* * *

"Southside mortuary," said the Undertaker sleepily when he answered the cell phone he'd gotten from Dispatch during the angel conflict. He forgot this wasn't his business phone, but he could hardly be blamed for being groggy at this ungodly hour.

"Darling, I need you."

Undertaker's brows went up and he rolled onto his side to peer at the clock. "At this hour, love? Aren't you in your office?" Despite being disturbed from his rest, he grinned. They hadn't played in Grell's office yet and he found the naughty prospect rather intriguing.

"Unfortunately that isn't why I need you," giggled the Dispatch agent. "Actually, I've been presented with the idea of you taking a more hands-on approach in your part of hunting down a demon for us."

The mortician resisted a grimace. "Oh? And what's this idea?" He wasn't particularly thrilled by the thought of scouring the city for demons, but there wasn't a thing he wouldn't do for Grell.

"You could go out reaping with me," came the dreaded reply, "as my partner, until we've made our goal."

"What's the matter with Slingby as your partner?" Questioned Undertaker. He covered a yawn and sat up, guessing that he wasn't going to be permitted to go back to bed.

"He's a fine partner," assured Grell, "but now Ronnie wants in on it and his idea makes sense. With two teams seeking out our quarry, we stand a better chance...wouldn't you say?"

"I s'pose." Undertaker shrugged. "Does this mean I've got to get out of bed?"

"Actually, no. I've spoken to Will about it and the three of us are going to do a split shift," Grell explained. "We'll finish up paperwork this morning, go home and then return to work by six pm. Demons are generally nocturnal creatures, after all. Our chances of finding one may be better at night."

"Graveyard shift, then?" Undertaker yawned again. "Why'd you call me so early then, rose? You could have waited until after lunch."

"Don't you sass me," admonished Grell with a huff. "I called you early because it would have been rude to leave it to the last minute, husband or not."

The mortician smirked. "Either way I don't s'pose I've got a choice, eh?"

"None," agreed Grell, and then his voice softened with promise. "I'll make it worth your while though, handsome. Your loving wife will be ever so happy to give you a special reward for helping."

Undertaker chuckled softly, imagining the crimson reaper batting his long lashes over the phone. "Oh, all right. I'm such a sook for a pretty face. I'll see you this afternoon then, m'dear."

Grell made a kissing sound. "Muah! Thank you, darling. I should be there by one and I'll have a brief nap before we go out reaping."

"All right, love. I'll have the bed turned down for you when you get here and we'll have a hot meal before we go out."

"Mmm, so good to me," sighed Grell. "Until then, my love!"

Undertaker hung up the phone and he sighed as he lay back down and tugged the covers up over his head. Mayhap he was just getting lazy. He stayed in most of the time, except for short jaunts to the market or a trip to the reaper realm to visit Grell's office on occasion.

"Could be I'm overdue for some exercise," he reasoned aloud sleepily, smacking his lips. The bed was so warm though, and he _did_ stay up past three in the morning finishing up with his latest client. Why _shouldn't_ he sleep the day away? He shrugged and he hugged the pillow that Grell's head usually rested on beside him, breathing in his wife's lingering scent. It might be fun to reap with Grell again. After all, if he kept stuffing his face with baked treats and sitting around he really _would_ get out of shape eventually.

* * *

Later that evening as he and Ronald moved in on their first reaping target for the night, Eric got the distinct feeling they were being watched. He said nothing to his young companion as they nimbly hopped from one London rooftop to the other, closing in quickly on the old man that lay dying of consumption in one of the wealthier parts of the city. What most of the targets mourners didn't know was that his demise wasn't from natural causes. He'd been poisoned by a member of the household—a maid that he'd forced to do sexual favors for him.

"What a depressing target," complained Ronald softly once they landed on the big, three story home of their target. The young man shook his head as he opened his death book and read what the seers had written again. "The old bloke could have just paid a doxy if he was that desperate for it, but instead he had to force himself on the maid. Man, humans can be messed up!"

"They're humans," Eric said with a shrug. His glittering eyes took in their surroundings, covertly searching for any signs of being followed. Maybe he was imagining it. "Let's jus' get it o'er wi' an' move on tae tha next assignment. Dun' dwell on tha circumstances, lad."

Ron nodded and put his book away with a grimace. "Right. Let's move."

Together the two reapers scaled the walls to the balcony outside the old man's bedroom. Cloaked from mortal vision, they passed through the double French doors and one of the house servants gasped and hastily shut them after the reapers passed her by, believing the wind was responsible for them opening. Eric summoned his scythe as he approached the man's death bed and he paused at the look on the face of the young maid responsible for her employer's condition. She was an attractive girl with chocolate brown curls and wide brown eyes. There was a fading bruise on her cheek as testament to the abuse she'd suffered at this rich merchant's hands.

Shaking his head at the pitiful situation, Eric loomed over the gasping merchant and he prepared to end his suffering and collect his records swiftly. As mortals sometimes did when approaching their death, the old man was able to see Eric and his young companion. He seemed to recognize what they were and his watery eyes widened with fear.

"Aye, ya know me, dun' ya?" whispered Eric, "an' yer afraid o' what ye'll face in tha afterlife. It's no' our place tae judge yer actions, though. This'll be over quick, auld man."

Ronald watched quietly as Eric did his task, reaping the old man and ignoring his dying please. The doctor in the room came rushing, unable to see the supernatural visitors standing by the death bed. He worked over the merchant and did his best to save him, but within moments he was gone. Eric drew the records into his scythe and then he straightened up and nodded at Ronald, taking out his death book to write some notes into it.

"Let's be goin'," suggested Eric. "We've still go' five targets each tae collect tonight."

As they went to the balcony door to make their exit, Ronald paused with a funny look on his face. "Hey Eric, is it just me or is that bird out there taking a little too much interest in us?"

Eric looked up and he peered through the glass to find a large raven perched on the balcony railing. It watched the two reapers with an eerie intelligence in its beady eyes. Eric frowned at the bird and he spoke in a low voice to his partner. "Might be one o' tha Undertaker's pets. Could be he's jus' checking in on us."

Ron kept his eyes on the bird as he opened the doors, and they both thought they saw a glint of red in its eyes before it took off. Eric quickly followed his companion out onto the balcony before the staff could close the doors again. This time he heard a lock click into place and he smirked. Locking them wouldn't have stopped him and Ronald from getting into that room, but the residents were blissfully unaware of that.

"That gave me the heebie Jeebies," announced Ronald as he watched the raven fly off into the night sky.

"Scared of a little bird?" teased Eric with a smirk—though he himself had a weird feeling about that particular bird.

"I know the old man likes to use 'em for scouting and sending messages," Ronnie excused, "but there was something about _that_ one that didn't seem right. Didn't you think so too, Eric?"

The Scot shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe we're jus' so focused on finding anything unusual we're making stuff up in our minds. Let's jus' get going."

* * *

Mordecai shifted from his animal form to his human one after landing on another rooftop far enough away not to be spotted by the two reapers. Out of his demon form, his eyes appeared a soft blue color. He kept himself concealed behind a chimney stack as he watched Alan's partner and his smaller companion pass by his location, running and leaping from one rooftop to the other gracefully. He smirked as he quietly watched them, and he admired their forms. Yes, very attractive the both of them, but he kept imagining the taller one with Alan in a sensual encounter and he found the mental image quite pleasing.

He'd overheard the two of them speaking earlier after coming out of an alley that seemed to be Eric's favorite place to teleport to from the other side. They were discussing Alan and how they could help him. Mordecai found their conversation quite interesting. "How ironic," he whispered to himself, "that I have an interest in helping the little reaper and his fellows on this side want the very same thing."

No surprise that they wanted him back, of course. After observing reaper behavior for a while, Mordecai was beginning to gain a better understanding of it. They weren't all that different from mortals when it came to their behavior, as far as Mordecai could see. There were some obvious differences of course, but they loved like mortals, they ate like mortals and they had similar notions of companionship.

He started to shift into his raven form again with the intention of following after the two of them, but then he sensed a presence taking form behind him that had him groaning with dread. Biting his lip, he turned to find Claude Faustus stepping out of the dark nimbus of energy that had formed. Mordecai went to one knee, immediately slipping out of his human form and growing his curved horns and soft black wings.

"Lord Faustus," he greeted softly, all too aware of what this could mean for him.

"Mordecai," came the low answer. A smirk was curving the spider demon's lips. "Don't you belong elsewhere, little raven?"

Mordecai looked up at him from his kneeling position, his eyes going from light blue to magenta. "I suppose...but I am hungry." He stared at the handsome demon noble and he tried to think of a way he might avoid punishment for being caught in the act.

"Hungry?" Claude—still appearing human—looked off in the distance at the two reaper forms getting further away from them by the moment. "How interesting. If I did not know better, I'd be under the impression that you were following two Dispatch agents. Such a thing is dangerous for a fledgling demon such as yourself. However would I explain to my mate that you ended up on the wrong end of a pair of death scythes, had they detected you?"

"They were simply in the area," fibbed Mordecai. "I was waiting for them to leave before deciding on my prey."

Claude tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. "Interesting that one of them happens to be the mate of our little guest at court."

"A mere coincidence," insisted Mordecai. "How was I to know he would be out this evening?"

"How indeed?" Claude watched them vanish into the streets, several blocks away. He turned his gaze back to the young raven kneeling before him. "I really should report this transgression to court, you know. They placed you under restriction for a reason, you curious, troublesome creature."

Mordecai lowered his gaze briefly. When he lifted it again to scan the other demon, an idea came to him and he decided that it was better than nothing. He reached out to Claude, greatly daring, and he ran one clawed hand over the spider's leg, slowly sliding it upwards as he stared into his eyes.

"Surely _you_ understand how consuming the hunger is, my lord. You go out to feed nearly every night, do you not?"

"I have a mate to consider," excused Claude evenly. "My prey is not always for myself."

"But would you deprive yourself for a month or longer?" persisted Mordecai. "I have been subtle. Nobody knows I'm here, save you." His hand crept closer to the taller demon's crotch, leaving little doubt of what kind of incentive he was prepared to offer in exchange for Claude's silence. "Is there nothing I can do to persuade you to keep this between us?"

Claude caught his hand before it could move any further. "That won't be necessary. I feel no pressing need to get caught up in disciplinary matters of the court. I'm not the one that imposed the ban on you and honestly, it isn't my concern so long as another party does not bring it to me. I would advise you to return home, however. I will not vouch for your innocence if you should happen to be spotted here by someone else from court."

Mordecai sighed, both relieved and a little bit disappointed that Claude apparently wasn't going to take him up on his offer. He was also faintly annoyed that his plans had been interrupted for the night and he wondered if he should try to carry through with them another night or just give it up for his own safety.

"Very well, my lord. This raven thanks you for your lenience."

"If you believe lenience motivates me, you're mistaken," Claude informed him. "I simply have greater concerns on my mind this night than the mischief of one willful raven. Now if you will excuse me, I must fetch dinner for my mate."

Knowing better than to argue with him, Mordecai bowed his head in acquiescence, before getting to his feet to form a portal back to Hell. He saw Claude take off just as he stepped through it and he sighed. Why was he even considering getting himself into even more trouble for the sake of a reaper, anyhow?

* * *

"Hsst...Ronnie stop."

Ronald was just about to enter the building—this one in a poorer part of town—and he turned to regard his companion curiously. "What's up?"

Eric's voice was hushed and his eyes shifted left and right as he summoned his death scythe. "I'm picking up on somethin', an' it feels kinda familiar."

Ronald's nose crinkled. "'Familiar' how? Like, a good familiar or a bad one?"

It was then that the blond sensed the demonic presence inside as well, and that answered his question. "Oh. Think it could be Michaelis?"

Eric looked at the shop building with a considering expression on his face, and he shook his head slowly. "No, it's no' tha butler...but I could swear I've felt this aura before. I'm just trying tae remember..."

Ronald moved away from the building entrance and he spoke in a whisper to the Scotsman. "Think we ought to call Grell and the Undertaker, then?"

Eric was already reaching for his phone. "Come away from it wi' me, Ronnie. We'll stay outta sight 'till they get here. Hopefully they'll make it before tha thing leaves."

Ronald joined him across the street and they climbed up to the roof together. Eric dialed Grell's number, keeping his eyes on the shop they'd just been about to go into to reap a target. There was a light flickering inside and Ronald could hear a struggle going on. He looked back at Eric uncertainly as the older reaper waited for Grell to pick up.

"It's gonna get away," predicted Ronald as he summoned his scythe in preparation. They were supposed to reap the shop owner's wife, who was due to die by his own hands. Now it looked like some demon was going to get a free meal _and_ they were going to lose it before help could arrive.

"Dun' rush in," cautioned Eric softly. "Not 'till we have an idea of wha' we're dealing wi'. Grell? It's Eric. We're outside one of tha shops where a reaping target is an' there's a demon inside right now. No, we havenae had a look at it yet. No, it's not 'Sebby'. Jus' get here as fast as ya can. Here's our location..."

Ronald checked an impatient sigh as Eric relayed their location to their associate. He saw the shop door open and he tensed when he saw a tall figure emerging, dragging one apparently unconscious—or dead body behind him and a struggling, yelling one in by the throat with the other. Ronald nudged his companion sharply and he nodded at the shop. There was little doubt about it by the way the elegantly dressed man's eyes glowed a telling magenta in the dark. Eric ended the call and he crouched low on the roof, eyes narrowing as he peered at the demon and his two victims. The struggling one was the shop owner and the unconscious female must have been his wife. Whether she was still alive or not was difficult to say.

"How far away are Grell and Undertaker?" Ron whispered.

Eric shook his head, eyes glued on the demon. "No idea. I know tha' demon, though. He was in that reinforcements Alan brought back wi' him after negotiating."

Ronald looked again and he remembered the demon too. He couldn't recall his name but he remembered he'd escorted Alan out of their lives and into Hell. He gave Eric a worried look when he heard the Scotsman growl under his breath. "Hey, take it easy," advised Ronald softly. "Remember your own advice!"

"I know him from somewhere else too, but I couldnae put mah finger on it 'till now," Eric said as the demon shoved the shopkeeper against the wall and appeared to kiss him—but it was no kiss. He was draining his soul. Black arachnid legs began to grow from the demon's back, almost like a pair of wings but lacking webbing or feathers. Eric stood up to full height, an expression of dawning comprehension spreading over his handsome features.

"Aye, I've crossed paths wi' him before tha battle fer tha library," announced Eric. "He attacked Alan an' me once while we were out collecting."

"Uh, he's also like a political figure with the demons," Ronald pointed out upon recalling the demon's station. "Eric..._Eric_, what th' hell are ya doing?!"

But it was too late. Eric had taken a running leap off the roof and he came down with his scythe ready, obviously intent on rushing the demon. With another curse, Ronald followed so that he would have backup.

* * *

When Grell and the Undertaker arrived, they found a complete and utter mess. One of the windows of the shop was broken into pieces and Eric lay half-in and half-out, his arms dangling limply and blood dripping from his fingers onto the street. The door was broken off its hinges and Grell heard a familiar voice moan from inside.

"Oh hells, what happened here?" Grell rushed inside to locate Ronald while the Undertaker got Eric out of the window. "Ronnie?"

"B-behind the counter," called a weak voice.

Grell ran around behind the counter to find his former apprentice lying sprawled on the floor, bruised and bloodied. The crimson reaper clucked his tongue and he knelt down to help Knox roll over. "You went after the demon without us," guessed Grell in an accusing tone.

"Did not," coughed Ronald. "Well, yeah we did, but that was Eric. He recognized the guy from when Alan brought the reinforcements to us and he just jumped in without waiting. Couldn't just leave him on his own, could I?"

Grell sighed and he helped Ronald to his feet. "I suppose not, but you are very lucky you aren't in worse condition! Eric's going to get a piece of my mind when he comes too as well." He draped one of Ronald's arms over his shoulder and he supported him around the waist as he assisted him back outside.

"How is the big lemming, darling?" called Grell upon seeing the Undertaker kneeling beside Eric's unconscious form.

"He'll make it," answered the mortician, looking up at them with his usual grin. "How's the smaller one?"

Ronald gave the death salute with his free hand. His injuries were already mending. "I think Eric got it worse than me. That guy was in a hurry, or else he might have banged us up even more."

Eric groaned and the Undertaker helped him to sit up. The Scotsman rubbed the back of his head, wincing. "Tha' was embarrassing," he confessed in a rough voice.

"Should've stuck with the plan and waited for us," chastised the Undertaker. "Have you any idea what direction the bloke went after he wiped the floor with you chaps?"

"East...I think." Eric didn't sound very certain of that. "Dammit...he was about tae leave an' I didnae want tae miss our chance. Guess I got too cocky thinkin' two on one were good odds."

"Not when it comes to certain demons, handsome," advised Grell with a shake of his bright head. "Granted, not all are as brilliant as my Bassy in a fight, but this one clearly was." Grell giggled behind a gloved hand. "He truly kicked your toned bum, didn't he? It isn't every day that I get to see Eric Slingby bested so thoroughly. Ronnie says you recognized the demon?"

"Aye." Eric grunted and got painfully to his feet, wiping off bits of glass clinging to his clothing. "He was with Michaelis when tha demon reinforcements came. He also took Alan wi' him tae Hell afterwards."

"Ah, must have been Mr. Faustus, then," guessed the Undertaker. "He's not one to underestimate, my lad. He's one of the duke's nobles and if I were to take a gander, his prowess likely matches 'Sebby'. It's no wonder we found you two in such a state, and it's probably for the best that it went that way. Taking him hostage would have hurt your case against the contract, no doubt."

"Then wha' tha hell am I s'posed tae do?" complained Eric in frustration. "I need a demon tae help me get there an' none of 'em are likely tae open a portal jus' 'cause I say 'please'!"

"Actually," said a new, unexpected voice, "I can think of at least _one_ that might be persuaded with a simple 'please'."

All four of them looked up to find an unfamiliar, rather beautiful young man smiling down at them from the rooftop. His long black hair blew in the evening breeze, held back from his pale, sculpted face with a bone hair comb. His garments were dark and clinging to his body tightly and a pair of sleek black feathered wings cloaked his back. His glowing magenta eyes looked down at them with a sort of curiosity and he made no aggressive moves even when all four reapers summoned their death scythes.

"And you are...?" Grell prompted, interested in the newcomer despite his wariness.

The demon jumped off the roof and landed with a flutter of his wings, seemingly unconcerned with the deadly weapons they all had on their persons. He gave the reapers a graceful, courtly bow and he smiled at them. "Mordecai, at your service. I really shouldn't be here right now, but I was simply too curious to remain in my realm for long...even on the advice of Lord Faustus."

The raven demon looked at Eric, his eyes caressing him in a way that made the Scotsman fidget uncomfortably. "So very handsome, you are. So very loyal, too. My little friend certainly has good taste in mates."

"What 'little friend'?" asked Ronald, stepping closer to Eric out of some weird protective instinct. "And stop eyeing him like a stuffed turkey at a banquet, would ya?"

Mordecai shrugged, but his caressing gaze still lingered on Eric. "The little reaper who has been staying with us, of course."

"Alan?" Eric's voice betrayed hope, and his expression became pained.

Mordecai nodded and his horns sparkled in the moonlight as if he'd sprayed them with some form of glitter. "Yes. Alan. I have grown quite fond of him, truthfully. I dislike it when his eyes leak and I know that he does not belong with us. I think I would like to try and correct that. If you have a plan that might release him from his contract, I can assist in getting you to my realm."

Eric was understandably mistrustful. "What's in it for you? Why would you help us?"

"Alan has named me his friend," answered the raven lightly. "I would be a poor friend indeed if I did not at least make some small attempt to free him."

Ron snorted. "A demon with friendship morals? I don't buy it."

Mordecai's bright gaze flicked to the young reaper and he tilted his head slightly with interest. "I am not trying to sell you anything, little reaper. Whether you believe me or not, I do have Alan's best interests at heart. Perhaps I cannot understand friendship the way your kind does, but I do see what living in Hell is doing to Alan. I think it would be a shame if he were to diminish or become corrupted. He belongs amongst his own kind, with his mate."

"Bless me, I think the lad's serious," mused the Undertaker. He scratched his chin. It wasn't totally unheard of for some demons to develop human feelings. He'd seen it happen before a couple of times in his lifetime.

"I am," confirmed Mordecai with a nod. "Don't ask me to explain it further. I could not even begin to if I tried. I know only that I don't wish to see my little reaper friend fade away, and so I am offering my humble service in this matter to see to it that does not happen."

The mistrust faded from Eric's gaze and he blinked at the raven with surprise. "I'll be damned. This is a lot better than trying tae kidnap one o' yer kind."

Mordecai smiled, his eyes taking in the residual damage from Eric's scuffle with Claude. "I imagine it must be...particularly if your intended target was Lord Faustus." He chuckled softly and shook his head. "Really, what were you thinking, Eric Slingby? Claude is one of the strongest of our court! You are fortunate his priorities right now are focused on keeping his mate well fed, else you might not have survived to tell the tale."

"His mate?" Grell perked up with interest and the Undertaker grimaced, half expecting the redhead to get jealous.

Mordecai nodded. "Oh yes. As part of the agreement to assist you reapers in the defense of your library, Lord Faustus requested mating rights with my very own cousin. Ah, Sebastian always attracts the good ones. I'm envious."

"You're Sebby's _cousin_?" Grell smiled with delight. "No wonder you're so gorgeous. Oh dear...poor Bassy. Did he get no say in the matter at all?"

Ronald gave his mentor an ironic look. "Since when does that demon butler's consent matter to you, Senpai? You've chased after him for years and you totally ignored it when he said 'no'—"

Grell clamped a hand over Ronald's mouth. "You hush. So anyway Mordecai...you said Sebby was basically given to this Claude fellow? Oh, how intriguing! Does he bottom with him? I always imagined Sebby as a dominant sort, but this Claude mustn't be a submissive demon to put our Eric and Ronnie through the ringer!"

"Hey, we gave as good as we got," protested Eric, "and how someone has sex doesnae have a thing tae do wi' how they fight! Ya ought tae know tha' of all people, Grell."

"I'm just picturing my handsome Bassy on his back with some gorgeous brute having his way with him," sighed Grell dreamily. He fanned himself. "Oh my...I think I might faint!"

Undertaker cleared his throat. "Husband listening. Think you could curb your enthusiasm for demon erotica in front of me, love?"

Mordecai laughed in delight, clapping his clawed hands. "Oh, I do like reapers. I think myself and this crimson one could get along well. To answer your question, pretty ruby reaper, my cousin was not given much choice...but he must enjoy Lord Faustus anyway because he is now breeding. I cannot say for certain what the exact date will be, but months from now Sebastian will produce Claude's firstborn spawn. I imagine he'll produce another within a year afterwards, given how enamored Lord Faustus seems to be with him."

All of the reapers save the Undertaker stared blankly at the demon. Eric was the first to voice his bewilderment. "But...they're both male."

Ronald joined his perplexity. "Dude...they're both dudes. Are ya trying to tell us Michaelis is _pregnant_? How the hell could _that_ happen?"

Undertaker's mouth twitched and he pinched his lips to control his smile. He couldn't quite hold back the giggle of amusement that burst from his mouth when he opened it to explain. "Gender isn't really a factor with demons, chaps. Like angels, their bodies can adapt and from what I hear, the raven ones like our friend here and Mr. Michaelis are particularly...eh...fertile."

"That is a more polite wording than most would use," said Mordecai with a smirk. "Some would describe us as whore-ish."

"Hey, you said it...not me," said Ronald with a smirk of his own.

Grell's reaction wasn't quite as expected, however. The Undertaker looked at him and he got a bit worried when he saw the pensive frown on his lips. Believing it was caused by jealousy for Claude claiming the demon Grell had always expressed such amorous affection for, the mortician sighed. "So much for you being 'over' Michaelis, eh love?"

Grell blinked at him. "What? Oh no, darling. That...that isn't my issue. Um...pardon us for a moment."

The crimson reaper took Undertaker's hand and he led him away to the back of the building. "Unnie, it's not fair."

The mortician tilted his head, wolf-like. "I don't follow, lovely. If you aren't jealous of Mr. Faustus than what exactly isn't fair?"

Grell sighed and he leaned back against the building, nibbling his lower lip as he looked to the partly cloudy night sky. "It's not fair that Sebby is starting a family with his man, and I cannot. I...I've always envied women and you know that, but to hear that a man—even a demon—is going to bear his love's child...well, it's so very frustrating!"

"I'd hardly call Faustus Sebastian's 'love'," mused the Undertaker softly, but he brushed it off. This wasn't about the demon butler's feelings for his mate. It was about Grell again feeling inept because he couldn't reproduce. Undertaker put his hands on Grell's shoulders and he squeezed them gently. "Look at me, rose. Please?"

Grell met his eyes and there was a sparkle of unshed tears. Undertaker smiled softly and he leaned in to give the smaller reaper a tender kiss on the lips. "Don't bite your lip—you'll make it bleed. Grell, even in your past mortal life as a woman we could never have had nippers together. Even if you had all the bits for it now, we _still_ wouldn't be likely to conceive. I know there are reapers like Knox that are the exception, but as a general rule most of us aren't born of sexual reproduction. In my eyes you're perfect, not matter what form you take or whether you can bear children. Here I was thinking you were pining for Michaelis and it turns out to be something neither of us can change."

Grell heaved a trembling sigh and he put his arms around the Undertaker's waist. "I know, my love. I know that you adore me unconditionally, and my own perceived failure is...well...my own. It hurts though, Unnie. It _pains me_ to know that I can never carry your child. I can never be a mother. Oh my darling, you are so very supportive, but my heart aches!"

Undertaker embraced Grell and he nuzzled his temple affectionately. "My dear, if I could change that for you I certainly would. Mayhap...we could adopt? There are so many orphans in mortal London. 'Course there would have to be rules most nippers don't need to follow, having two reapers as parents and all. If it's what you really want though, I'm willing to look into it."

Grell sniffed. "Such a kind and generous madman you are, beneath all those giggles and insane smiles. I...I love you so much for that, but as terrible as this sounds, it would not be the same. I wish that I could experience what it's like to carry my own child in my body, and to welcome it into the world when the time comes! I can _never_ have that. I'm so awful for burdening you with this again...I know how hard you try to comfort me and I could not ask for a better man."

"Oh my dear," sighed the Undertaker. He stroked Grell's back soothingly and he rocked him. "It's never a burden. I'm your 'Unnie' and there's not a thing you could do that would make me feel like loving you is a chore, yeah? If only there was something I could..."

He trailed off, eyes widening as an idea came unbidden to him. Yes it was true that he loved Grell with all his heart and he didn't give a toss whether his wife came with male or female bits...but there just might be an avenue unexplored that could result in the crimson reaper having those "bits" he wanted so much.

"What was that, darling?" Grell sniffed and kissed his cheek. "You seemed to be about to say something but you stopped. Don't leave a lady wondering."

Undertaker swallowed, wondering if he should even mention the possibility that was taking form in his mind. Reapers created from deceased humans took on their appearance and form based on whom they were in their previous lives as mortals. As a human, Grell had wished she were a male strictly for freedom. Now as a reaper he wished he were female. It _was_ possible that Grell could be "re-made", but it was very risky. Could the Undertaker bear the risk of losing his love again? But then, he hated to see his lady so unhappy.

"Darlin', there just might be something we could try," he said slowly and reluctantly. He pulled back to look at the smaller reaper and he couldn't even hide the love in his eyes as he gazed upon him. "I just...if I lost you, I'd be lost. Think I was a bad seed before? Imagine what I'd become if you were gone from my life."

Grell's brows furrowed. "What are you trying to say, my love? Is there...some way that I could bear your children? Tell me!"

The Undertaker breathed a shaken sigh. "There's a way...possibly. It involves a dangerous ritual though. You see love...sometimes we reapers don't come out right. I'm not saying you came out _wrong_, but...you aren't happy the way you are. If this sweet, lovely form you've taken wasn't meant to be, there's a chance...there's a chance you could be remade. It's dangerous, though. Things could go wrong and...ah hells, it's not for me to decide what risks you take, m'dear."

Grell's eyes widened. "Unnie darling...are you telling me that I could possibly...become a woman?"

There was so much hope in Grell's eyes. The Undertaker almost regretted even mentioning it, but he loved Grell enough to put his happiness before his own. He nodded and he caressed the smaller reaper's face. "It's possible. If you feel it would complete you then I'll support your choice, love. I don't want to lose you, but I don't want you to be unhappy, either. You just need to know it could result in your death and..."

He sighed and shook his head, heart aching at the thought. He and Grell were meant to be together. Grell completed him. But if Grell did not feel complete how he was made, then the Undertaker had to at least offer him the chance to correct it.

"Oh darling, I don't know what to say!" Grell ran his nails gently over the mortician's pale, scarred jaw. "You could have kept this to yourself, you know."

Undertaker nodded. "Yeah. Almost did. But I can't stand seeing you cry, lovely. Not many folk know about this ritual and I'll have to do some research...plus Dispatch isn't likely to be too keen on it and I'll need their help. Seems I'll have to offer some incentive if we want this to be a legal endeavor, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make you happy."

Grell sniffled and embraced him tightly. "I love you so much, you sweet, charming lunatic. We...we can discuss it later—after we've rescued poor little Alan. Just know that whatever happens, you are my blessing. Nobody has ever done so much for me and...and I hope that if we go through with this and I become a woman again, you will still want me."

Undertaker chuckled, though his throat was tight with the thought of losing Grell. "Darlin', you're my lady no matter what. I loved you as a mortal woman and I love you now as an immortal reaper. That's not going to change one bit. It's who you are and not what your shape is. Besides, cleavage is fun."

Grell snorted and pulled back to poke the taller man in the chest. "There you go again; spoiling a perfectly romantic moment with your ill behavior! Dirty old man."

Undertaker grinned and waggled his pale eyebrows at Grell. "If you think I'm dirty now, just wait and see what I _do_ with that cleavage, eh?"

Grell chuckled and hugged him again. "Oh, if this works it's going to be so strange...but I think my soul might recall what my body has forgotten. I do love you so."

"And I you, pet," whispered the mortician, hugging Grell back. "More than words could ever say."

* * *

"Was it something I said?" questioned Mordecai when the elder reaper and his mate remained absent for some time. "Does that pretty red reaper have something against my cousin's mating status?"

"Er...I'm no' really sure," hedged Eric uncomfortably. He was wondering what Grell and the Undertaker were discussing himself, but his most pressing concern was still Alan. It wouldn't be a good idea to traverse the realms without the Undertaker and Grell however, so he didn't want to push Mordecai to create the portal right away. "Wi' Grell it's hard tae say. Soon as they get back we can leave, if yer up fer it."

"Of course," agreed Mordecai with a nod. "One thing I will require is your vow of silence concerning my involvement in this, however. I am...er...banished from the mortal realm for a century. My kin will not look kindly on it should they discover I've skirted the rules, after all."

Eric nodded in understanding. "Tha' yer willing tae do this is enough. I wouldnae sell ya out. This is mah chance tae get mah soulmate back."

Mordecai smiled at him in a gentle manner. "So very loyal to your gentle young mate. I think I might envy the two of you just a bit."

Eric lowered his gaze and he shrugged. "Alan's all I want. I cannae sleep at night. Things won't be right 'till he's back in mah arms again."

"Wow," muttered Ronald. When Eric looked at him curiously, the younger reaper appeared slightly embarrassed. "I just...you are so damned tight. I mean, part of me kinda wished you were that devoted to my mum, but that's selfish of me. I keep thinking if it were Will...I'd probably do the same."

Eric patted Ronald on the shoulder. "I know ya would, kid. Ya need tae stay here while we're doing this, though. Tha boss is gonna need ya while we're away an' it's no' a place I want ya going anyhow."

"Hey, I can handle myself!" Ronald puffed up a bit.

Eric chuckled. "I'm sure yeh can. I've seen it. Can't have all tha best agents trekking off tae Hell though, can we? Will's going tae need someone he can count on."

Ronald swallowed, unable to refute the Scot's logic. "Just watch your arses, kay? I don't want to hear about my best mate _and_ my father ending up as demon kibble. Let alone my senpai."

Mordecai looked between the two of them, eyes widening with realization. "You're his _sire_?" he said, pointing at Eric. "Of _course_! I should have noticed the resemblance...though I daresay the taller one is a more rugged specimen. The hair...oh, that wonderfully dual-toned hair! I feel so foolish for failing to notice it!"

"You're awfully excited over reaper genetics," Ronald noted with a smirk. "Why's that?"

"I..." Mordecai scratched his right horn thoughtfully. "I really don't know, to be honest. There's just something fascinating about how your kind reproduce—or don't, as the case may be. You also have the most lovely, interesting eyes."

Eric bit back a chuckle. He was starting to like this demon against his will. Mordecai certainly wasn't like most demons Eric had known. He seemed to possess an odd sort of innocence and it helped that the raven apparently had been watching over Alan. He started to say something in response to Mordecai's expressed curiosity, but then the Undertaker came back with Grell and it was down to business again.

"Right then, when do we leave?" Questioned the mortician.

Eric looked at Mordecai, still surprised at himself for feeling even a hint of fondness towards a demon. "Whenever he's ready, I guess."

"I'm perfectly ready whenever you are," announced the raven. His dark, rainbow-highlighted wings ruffled with visible excitement. "Just please remember not to mention me. I'm in quite enough trouble as it is, thank you."

"Ye've go' mah word," agreed Eric. He looked to Ronald. "Thanks fer trying tae help, kid. Take care o' Will while we're gone an' keep yer fingers crossed."

"Absolutely," agreed Ronald with a sigh. He looked to the Undertaker. "I'm counting on ya t' keep 'em safe, old guy."

The mortician chuckled and tipped his hat. "No questions there, lad. If it _does_ come to a fight, I promise I'll be the last man standing."

"Oh, let's not be grim," sighed Grell. He giggled at his own choice of words. "Well, not _overly_ grim, at least. Come now, pretty raven...the night isn't getting any younger!"

"Impatient," chided Mordecai with a smirk. He stretched a bit in a cat-like manner. "Best of luck to you and remember: you never saw me."

"Right," agreed the Undertaker. "Time's a-wasting, chap."

Mordecai took his cue and he summoned the dark energy necessary to create the portal. Eric stared at it for a moment before stepping towards it. He paused and he looked back at Ronald. "I'm bringing him home, lad," he promised.

Ronald nodded and forced a smile. "I know...pops. Just be careful."

The young reaper watched as his father, Undertaker and Grell stepped through the portal. He sighed when it winked out of existence and he turned to the demon that had created it. "You're kinda cool for a demon."

Mordecai smiled softly. "I always thought we demons were on the hotter side...but this raven shall take it as a compliment."

Ronald chuckled. "You're also kinda weird...but that's okay. Hey Mordecai...do ya like alcohol? I could use a drink."

Mordecai was visibly puzzled. "I have not indulged before. What is it like?"

Ronald threw a companionable arm around the demon's shoulder. "Like food I guess...but you wouldn't know about that, would you? Come on...there's a pub not far from here. Just uh...make sure you do your 'human' thingy or else we'll get a bunch of stares."

With a shrug, Mordecai altered his form to hide his horns, wings and the appearance of his eyes. "Sounds interesting."

* * *

-To be continued


End file.
